


Two ways of Trick or Treating

by ni21



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: BDSM, Choking, F/M, Family, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Romance, Threesome - F/M/M, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-12-27 11:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ni21/pseuds/ni21
Summary: This year Vegeta gets to Trick or Treat twice and in vastly different ways if you know what I mean. He might even be able to test out a new technique outside of battle.





	Two ways of Trick or Treating

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my very first Dragon Ball fanfic!
> 
> Now if you're here, because you were searching for your daily dose of dragon ball goodness, thank you for giving me a chance! I know this fandom is practically bursting with extremely talented writers, so you taking a chance with this new, little wannabe author means a lot to me! If you followed me here from my [One Piece fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560110/chapters/33643965), thank you for your loyalty!
> 
> Now, introductions out of the way, let's get to the business side of this. You are incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon this amazing Halloween collection, because you'll get daily one shots from vegebulocracy's finest authors until Halloween. We all work with the same prompt: 'Trick or Treat' which was provided by the wonderful [Rogue_1102](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogue_1102/pseuds/rogue_1102).
> 
> A huge thank you goes to my beta [Rexica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexica/pseuds/Rexica), special thanks go to [Lachanophobic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lachanophobic/pseuds/Lachanophobic) for making sure I got the characters right and for her invaluable comments and of course the other lovely writers from the vegebulocracy server for coming up with all this and being amazingly supportive!

The Hercule-Resort for the Elderly was high end. It was located in the richest neighbourhood of West City and was indeed a resort, and Mrs. Pumps rarely had reason for complaint. They had a book club, massages, seated dancing lessons, Qigong... Proactive elderly that she was, Mrs. Pumps participated in all of those activities, and yes, if asked she would describe herself as modern despite her age. She did not mind the new nurse’s pierced eyebrow and neither did she mind the hard bass and martialistic vocals the young nurses had chosen for their dancing. What she did mind was that the resort’s staff opened the doors to Trick or Treaters. 

Of course she could understand where they were coming from. Many of the other residents had no living relatives and even more had relatives that didn’t care. Having children visit was beneficial to many, and she really didn’t mind per se. What she did mind was, unfortunately, directly tied to the fact that this retirement-home -if one could even call it that- lay in a really good neighbourhood. Meaning every child knocking on her door was a spoilt brat.

A spoilt brat decked out in the most expensive and elaborate costume one could imagine. The wealthy wanted only the best for their little angels after all… as long as it had a price-tag and didn’t involve actual involvement, that was. She was convinced that not one of the little devils got the love and affection that they needed, maybe from their nannies, but not from their busy parents. Wouldn’t be such brats otherwise. Some of them would also greatly benefit from a proper spanking, she assumed. 

The Briefs tramp would have greatly benefited from that in her youth. No respectable woman would surround herself with all those muscled men. From what she had heard, it had to be a veritable harem. Who even knew if that trophy husband of hers was the father of the most recent spawn. 

...Two children… Nobody could tell her that the woman had a body like that after two children without the help of a plastic surgeon. In general, the Briefs woman had to be the best customer, looked way too young for her age. How could someone be this conceited? Wasn't it enough that she had money? Well, that wasn't any of her business, was it? Whatever the Briefs woman did with her money was her business alone, and maybe that of her spoilt brats that would probably equally benefit from a spanking, and just maybe also the business of that elusive husband of hers. Was he even still in her life? Or had she exchanged him for a newer model, like with the baseball player?

Mrs. Pumps sighed when the first knock of the night rapped against her door and pushed herself up from her armchair. This had been easier when Croc had been still alive. He had always been fitter than her. It was ironic that he had been the first to go. But at least he had died doing what he loved. Watching the 25th world martial arts tournament. The mysterious one. Croc had died of a heart attack. Like many others that day. From too much excitement, they said. She knew better than that, though, no matter what Mr. Satan wanted the world to believe. Dr. Dyson said in his book that it involved hypnosis, the reason that nobody had seen how they had died, that nobody had noticed, just found them lying lifeless on the ground… Dr. Dyson even had a map on where the bodies had been found, and she was convinced that this was not a case of mass hysteria as Mr, Satan had claimed upon confrontation…

Maybe that had to do with her disdain for the scientist. That tournament had been the last public appearance of her harem. Did she make them responsible for Croc's death? Maybe. Didn't change the fact that the woman was a tramp and her children spoilt brats.

The only good thing about their family was their brand and that they really kept to themselves. So when Mrs. Pumps opened the door to reveal a little turquoise haired, frowning girl in ripped designer clothes and with dirt caking her skin instead of a flock of pristine vampires or mummies, a genuine gasp of surprise left her lips. Looking up from the little frowning girl, she saw a man wearing the same scowl and equally tattered clothing, and without even trying, he answered her question from earlier. Yes, that elusive husband of hers was indeed the father of her most recent hell spawn.

Despite her cracking knees, she bent down to eye level with the girl and couldn’t help her frown. The richest people of the planet standing in front of her dressed as beggars… this was just bad taste. Now, Mrs. Pumps wasn’t poor by any means, of course not, she wouldn’t be able to afford this apartment otherwise, but unlike this brat in front of her, she hadn’t come from money. She and Croc had worked their way up from the bottom, had known months where they hadn’t been sure if they could feed their children… Just what had the world come to when children chose to dress up as beggars for Halloween? 

“So what’s your costume, little girl?” she asked against all hope, and she almost felt bad when the child chanced a quick, insecure look up to the menacing presence that was her father. She was probably being forced to do this. Mrs. Pumps took everything back she had said about a proper spanking. A man like that… Of course he hit his children, and as long as he put out in the bedroom, the Briefs woman probably let him do however he pleased. Disgusting people, really.

The girl squared up, broadened her stance, and thrust a bag her way.

“I’m the Saiyan Princess returning from  _ gurorious _ battle, and I demand a tithe!” She commanded, suddenly not insecure at all, but her vibrant eyes darkened when there was a snicker heard from next door.

“What a lame costume,” one of the other brats laughed, pointing his finger her way while the teenaged girl watching that particular flock of werewolves giggled behind her hand.

Mrs. Pumps fully expected the Briefs girl to start crying and ask for her father’s help, to threaten the brats with her family’s wealth or something similar, but the fire in the girl’s eyes took her by complete surprise. Instead of tearing up, she flicked her hair.

"It's because I don't need a costume. I  _ am _ a princess, and you and your dumb werewolf friends can lick my Battleboots."

Mrs. Pumps was ready to hate that conceited little brat, half way there already before she had even met her, and that displayed arrogance was really all that it should take. If it wasn’t for the amused snort of her father that instantly melted away the scowl and let the child beam with such adorable innocence, reverence. It almost melted mrs Pumps heart, made her forget all the preconceptions she had for that family. This pure display of love...

The girl’s hand reached up to her father’s, who suddenly didn’t look all that menacing anymore, and smiled the brightest smile imaginable.

“Let’s go home, Papa, I don’t need handouts from these plebeians.”

With a sigh, Mrs. Pumps rightened herself and closed the door right in the girl’s face. As she’d been saying, only brats around here...

* * *

* * *

"Trick or treat, woman?"

She laughed at him, one of her crystalline laughs of pure amusement. "Treat."

Of course she wanted a treat… glutton that she was. Pulled her close with one hand fisted in her scarf. "Then beg for it."

"I really hope you didn't act like that with the people from the Hercule-Resort," she breathed, and he relished in that frustrated pinch of her eyebrows when she realised that it hadn't sounded as snarky as she had intended. Pulled her along with him to their bed and sat down on the comforter that he still, after all these years, found way too soft. The woman that had an entire company kissing her feet on a day to day basis knelt between his legs without resistance. Not today. He'd earned it today. She didn't have to know that he'd follow his daughter out anytime she'd ask him to, just to see the pipsqueak absolutely destroy the neighborhood brats without even lifting a finger.

Wondered how far he could go before his woman forgot everything about being demure and submissive to try scratch his eyes out, no matter how futile she had to know it to be.

"That's not what begging sounds like, woman," he said, angling her pretty face up to him. Didn't want to miss how she fought back her pride to pay what she had promised.

"Please, give me my treat, Vegeta Ouji-sama," she mumbled with a pout on her lips and defiance in her eyes.

"You can do better than that," he said as always, not quite sure if he actually wanted her to give in without a fight. A smile tugged at his lips; she would fight. Not once in all their years together had she managed to just shut up and do as he said, and even though he wouldn’t say it out loud, he loved her for it. He scoffed. Just when had he started to casually think in those ridiculous earth notions. Didn't fucking matter if he loved her or not. She was his and he was hers. They had fought, and they were equals; they were one. That was all that mattered in Saiyan culture and all that should matter to him.

“Yeah, no, that’s not working for me, Vegeta. I know I promised, but I can’t just...”

Of course she couldn’t just submit. She wouldn’t be his queen if she just forfeited the battle, would she?

“Going back on your word like that, what a disgrace,” he rumbled and pulled her on the bed with her scarf. He understood why she wore it. She had explained in great length and even greater volume; didn’t change the fact that, in his opinion, she should wear her wounds with pride. He tore it off, using both hands so he wouldn’t accidentally snap her neck. Fingertips crackling with just the tiniest amount of ki, he traced the purple lines, the imprints of his fingers, and she mewled at the sensation. 

She had never wanted him to be gentle. Their first time together, she had shown the same blatant disregard for her safety as on Namek. Had left it to him to be the responsible one, and in hindsight, it was probably the only reason he hadn’t ripped her apart. Woman had fought him tooth and nail every second of the day, but she had not once told him to stop, not once lorded her wealth and benevolence over him like he had expected her to.

It had been clear from the beginning that she had been in it for the thrills, and for the longest time he’d done his damnedest to keep the fact from her that what had just been the next adrenaline rush for her had been empowerment and emancipation for him. Kept his more violent and destructive urges at bay, too. Urges that he now understood and accepted to have a tendency to get in his way if not properly channeled. Wench had known all the time, of course. 

He’d been ashamed at first that a weakling like her made him feel so powerful, but then again, was there a better compliment for his power and self control than this fragile earthling bearing her neck to him? Arching into his waiting hand so he could decide just how much air she needed to survive?

Her arousal was thick in the air, and he was sure that even her jeans were wet already. His little gasping human was attracted to power. Of course she was. She was powerful in her own right, surrounded by groveling earthlings so far beneath her… trying to please her, not knowing that all she needed to be pleased was a good fight. And being put in her place, but that was none of their business.

Weak nails clawed at his arm, and he lowered his ki to savour the sting while watching her beautifully red face. He placed his other hand on her thigh to keep her from rubbing them together. If she wanted that ache relieved, she’d have to beg for it. 

He felt her desperate pulse drum against his fingers, listened to the beat of her heart, felt her ki. She was safe with him, although he had to admit that she hadn't always been. Felt his stomach churn just thinking how reckless he'd been with her in the beginning, how easily he could have killed her, and how little he would have cared. His queen, his life, his strength. He loosened his grip on her throat, and she gasped for the air he granted her.

"You ready to beg, yet?" He asked, but all he got for an answer were grit teeth and a thigh desperately trying to wiggle free from his iron grip. He let her go. Woman never knew what she wanted after all. Be free of him, just to realize that not feeling his hands on her was even worse. Was soothing to see that she was just as addicted to him as he was to her. She propped herself up on her elbows, brows drawn, and he waited just long enough for her to draw breath to reprimand him for actually letting go. 

"If you want to keep your clothes, you undress now," he said just as the first sound fell from her lips. She hated being interrupted, like all powerful people did, and still she was visibly torn between complying and snapping back. He drank in the sight of her, two halves warring for dominance in her eyes, her ki spiking in angry frustration. He didn't have to do anything, just sat back on his haunches to watch her. She knew what he could do to her, what he could make her feel if she followed his demands, and she knew that he would leave her wanting and dripping and furious if she didn't. Knew that he had no qualms ripping her clothes for nothing but his own pleasure or amusement. She would follow. Today she would, at least. Tomorrow she might just up and leave him wanting and dripping and sic some battlebots at him to restrain him against the bed to make him beg and have her way with him. But today she would submit.

"Fine," she huffed and got up to undress, slowly inching her shirt up her body to reveal her bare tits underneath. Fuck, she'd become quite daring since making that wish to the dragon. He'd never given a single fuck about all the imperfections she complained about. Hadn't even noticed her 'saggy tits' until she had pointed them out to him. The stretch marks… how could she despise the scars that told of her two most glorious battles? He'd never understand.

She skimmed out of her jeans and totally ruined it when her feet caught in the tight legs, and he didn't even try to suppress his mocking laughter. Why would he if she rewarded it with that fierce glare of hers? 

Fists stemmed at her sides, she drew breath again, no doubt curses and insults brewing in that genius brain of hers. He extended his hand towards her, and the fight died down instantly. She came to him, boldly pushing her cunt right against his open palm, and he rewarded her with a spark of ki that made her whither and crumble against his arm, forehead firmly planted against his neck, ready for more. She wiggled her hips to spur him on.

"You're not pregnant again, woman, are you? It's not like you to be this forgetful. Told you that you have to beg, didn’t I?"

Dull teeth dug into his shoulder in response while her hips moved against his palm, drenching his fingers. He kept the flow of ki steady, enough to keep stimulating her but never enough to make her cum. 

His cock pulsed and strained at the sight of her shivering body, the smell of sweet arousal and biting pheromone loaded sweat, the sound of her pathetic whimpers.

"Fuck, Vegeta, Please," she tried against his neck.

"Please what?"

A frustrated scream muffled by his shoulder and a weak fist hitting his thigh was her only attempt at resistance.

"Fucking hell, Vegeta, please make me cum already," she demanded before adding a more desperate, demure plea for mercy. More satisfying. Finally.

"Begging a man that's not your husband shamelessly like that… you're a fucking harlot aren't you, woman?" he asked from the shadows, hard and dripping from the visuals from his clone's eyes, the feel of her body against his and from seeing them interact. 

She froze at his voice. He'd known it had been a good idea not to come gloating to her with this technique. Heard her pulse race, smelled the sudden increase of adrenaline as she tried to pry herself away from the muscled arm that felt just like his. She thrashed when his clone kept her in place by wedging three fingers inside her and an iron grip to her hair. By the great Oozaru, his woman was delicious prey.

He approached them, made sure she could hear his nearing footsteps, while his clone tightened his grasp in her hair, keeping her from turning her head.

"All that genius in that little brain of yours, and you can't even recognize your own husband. You should be ashamed of yourself," he rumbled, trailing his gloved fingers along her exposed rear. Fingertips sizzling with energy, making her arch despite her confusion. 

Took his time traveling up her back while at the same time relishing her irritation. All the things she had seen, and clones was where she drew the line? That’s where her scientific mind tapped out? She’d grown up with wishing orbs, for fuck’s sake! Had invented a time machine. Regularly had lunch with an angel, and had somehow talked the god of destruction into babysitting her half-alien child. But cloning was too much for her? He scoffed and closed his gloved hand around the back of her neck in a hold that was both familiar and instantly pacifying to her. 

Pulled her from his clone, who had the audacity to shoot him an irritated growl - _ Fuckin’ behave, or I’ll replace you-  _ and put her in front of his own face. Her eyes widened almost comically, darting from him to his clone and back to him. As soon as he saw the spark of marvel that she always got when she found a mystery worth solving, he pushed her down on all fours. She could question him after he was done with her.

His clone rammed inside her dripping cunt without warning, and he himself used her startled gasp to slip all the way down her throat. He growled at the constricting muscles all around him, the echoed sensation from his clone almost too much to keep control. Still he kept her right there, until she started heaving and then a little more, before he pulled her back at the hair -like hell he’d let his body decide when this would be over. Took a few moments to appreciate the black stained tears running down her cheeks. 

"That too much Saiyan cock for you, little human?" He taunted and immediately got rewarded by a seething glare and a draw of her brows.

"Fucking asshole," she grumbled under her breath, the bite of her words lessened by her coughs. Yes! That temper of hers… Didn't suit her to be meek. He chuckled just a little more. "Oh? I can make another clone if you're feeling empty," he offered and shoved himself back in her mouth. Felt her cunt tighten around his clone's cock while teeth dug into his own. Mixed messages, huh?

Maybe next time. She really was in no condition to make a decision, moaning, writhing mess that she was right now. And just maybe he wasn’t ready for even more sensory input, was hard enough as it was… Really hadn’t thought that this would be harder than fighting with this technique. But fuck, it was. Woman felt twice as hot around him, friction twice as intense. Didn’t have to choose whether he wanted to see her tear streaked face or his cock slamming into her, plump ass coming flush against his hips, because he could see fucking everything. The red of her skin from where he’d gripped her just right. Fuck, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to control both of him if blood was involved, but next time? The red ribbons would look so fucking perfect.

His clone pulled her off his cock, and he bared his teeth. Giving them free will was a good thing in battle, but here? He grabbed her from him before she could cum from his clone’s cock slamming against her G-spot and tossed her on the bed. She wouldn’t get it that easily. Had her legs up against his shoulder and his cock balls deep inside her absolutely divine cunt without her even realizing what had happened. His clone could go fuck himself for all he cared, and despite his woman’s wet heat, he could feel his own rough hands stroking himself to the picture.

She mewled and cried with every thrust, too loud with their children going through Bra’s haul downstairs. His clone got up, circled the bed, and made use of her head almost hanging over the bed’s edge. Maybe free will  _ was _ a good Idea. Grit his teeth at the added feel of her throat, her tongue sliding over his head with every thrust, her cunt fluttering around him, nails digging in his glutes, and fucking hell, over that spot where his tail used to be. Didn’t even fucking know what he himself felt and what came from his clone anymore. Her tits bouncing, cunt incredibly tight, weak legs straining against his upper body. Her impossibly soft skin under his fingertips. Or his clone’s. Who the fuck even cared?

Leaned forward, pressed in even deeper, her hips lifting from the mattress, back curling. Put his hand around her throat again. Felt it moving, working under his palm. Wouldn’t make it much longer. His clone pulled back, and her gaze immediately fixed on his, kept her cries down, knew it was time for her to be quiet. To listen for once.

“Cum,” he ordered, and she seized instantly. Legs pressing against him, eyes turning in her head. He tightened his grip on her hip, knew she’d carry his marks for days. Let go of her throat, made room for his clone.

Balls tight against his body, he let the pressure built in the back of his spine, where the tail used to be. 

Clone rammed down her throat again. Just too fucking much. Flutter of her cunt tightening again with his clone's sudden intrusion.

How long since he'd lost his tail? Could fucking feel it curl at the pleasure. Fingers digging into her flesh. Would have to get her a  _ gaku-zu _ later.

Came with growl, pumping inside her cunt, down her throat. Fuck.

His clone vanished after a few more shallow thrusts to ride it out, and his woman gasped in surprise.

Fucking hell.

Let himself fall on his back, breathing heavier than he should with this little exertion. Just… fuck.

Heard her moan through the haze clouding his mind. Legs on his chest curled as she tried to sit up.

Crashed down on his chest with a very undignified umpf that she'd definitely deny. 

"That was definitely quite the treat," she hummed, caressing his jaw, and he gave her a curt nod, knowing her well enough by now that there'd be more to come.

"So, Mister, did you chicken out, or is three clones one too many?"

"Shut up," he grumbled while at the same time wishing for his tail to curl it around her waist. 

She wouldn't be his queen if she didn't constantly press him to improve himself either.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's it. Did you like it? Let me know. You didn't like it? Also, let me know, I'm always open to constructive criticism. And either way, you can look forward to a lot more versions of Trick or Treat than the two I showed you ;-p
> 
> Now let's get serious for a bit, Bulma and Vegeta in this short of mine have been together for years and they know and respect each other’s hard limits. Choking is a seriously dangerous practice nobody can call safe or sane and if you want to try it you absolutely must be aware of the risks for you and your partner. This is nothing you do out of a whim, read, ask a [physician](https://ncsfreedom.org/resources/kink-aware-professionals-directory/kap-directory-homepage) and talk it through with your partner.


End file.
